


First Aid

by Auredosa



Category: Faith (Airdorf Video Game)
Genre: Demonic Possession, Faith Chapter 3 Demo, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Mild Gore, Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26859145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auredosa/pseuds/Auredosa
Summary: By some miracle, Father Garcia finds John after the events at the apartment complex.John was shaken, bloody, and above all, scared.
Relationships: John Ward & Father Garcia
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	First Aid

**Author's Note:**

> Father Garcia calling John "little bunny" in Spanish is just a thing now.
> 
> UPDATE: Here’s the piece of fan art that inspired this by Tumblr user @johnthomasward! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/johnthomasward/611786898953961472

When Father Garcia asked him what it felt like to be possessed, John wasn't exactly sure what to say.

It felt like he was a bottle of soda that'd been shaken up and stupidly popped open. Bubbles of his own thoughts and brain matter were popping in the forefront of his mind, and a sizzling pain coursed from his ears to his toes. He was being frayed at his fingertips and arms but his chest was caving as if it were a knotted sinkhole. Of course, he couldn't find the words because it hurt to talk. His teeth were loose in his mouth, and he wasn't sure if it was just dark or if his eyes really were gouged out. Father Garcia kept a steady hand on his shoulder and dabbed a torn off woven cloth over his wounds with cold antiseptic.

They were hiding in the bathroom of the apartment on the third floor. Apparently, Rogelio had heard him screaming from inside the building while he was driving down the road, looking for John. It was almost a miracle. He said almost because if it were truly a miracle, John wouldn't be sitting over the bathroom sink, holding himself together like he'd fall apart again. Father Garcia sat beside him, arm wrapped around his narrow shoulders as he whispered things in Spanish and English that John didn't know what meant, but liked to hear.

“There, there, _conejito_ , everything is okay now. You are safe. Nothing can hurt you," he softly said, rubbing circles into John's bruised back. There were probably more gashes and cuts he hadn't found yet, but they all stung the same.

“They’re coming after me, Father. They’re after me . . .” John trembled, pressing his face into the fuzzy cotton of his sweatshirt. It smelled of gunpowder and brass. He faintly recalled the sound of a gunshot, someone’s heavy footsteps thundering down the hallway, and Father Garcia calling his name. It was starting to fade away like a firework: so bright and vivid before it disappeared into a black nothingness.

“They made me hurt her. They’ll make me do it again if they catch me.”

“They will not find you, they won’t. They won’t hurt you ever again. I promise." He brushed John's bangs back into place. "Everything will be okay. God will help us through this.”

Father Garcia let out a deep breath and pulled John into his arms. He didn't care that John was drooling pink saliva all over himself or that he was going to get blood all over his clothes. For a single, terrifying moment, John wondered if he could ever hurt him. In an instant, his hands could grow into sharp claws and rip out the man’s spine like he was uprooting a weed. And Rogelio would shove him off, grab his shotgun off the toilet seat, and put the barrel right next to his heart, and . . .

He pushed the thought away and cried. God have mercy on his soul.


End file.
